Poetry: O Butterfly!

O butterfly, butterfly,

As you flit among the rye,

You seem so graceful 

O butterfly, butterfly, 

As you flit above the sky,

Your beauty shows to all the world

The first poem I ever wrote, I probably wrote this when I was eight or nine. The picture is one I took of a Monarch I found in Grafton on the banks of the Illinois river. He was dying, but still trying to fly. I don't know how his wings came to be in that condition. I took the picture, then held him up hight so that he could catch the breeze. He caught it, soared halfway across the river, then floated down into it. I only wish he could have made it all the way across like he wanted to.